


Speculum Carcerem

by Brieflywriting



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Imprisonment, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Viren and Aaravos in Mirror Prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brieflywriting/pseuds/Brieflywriting
Summary: Crimes cannot go unpunished and deeds cannot be undone.A prison of isolation, but there's no longer just one.An elf and a human, trapped together in their sin.Because the world looked evil in the face and told it, "you cannot win"
Relationships: Aaravos/Viren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 81





	1. Crimes Cannot Go Unpunished

Viren hadn’t been much for cooking in the past. It was a tedious task that he didn’t need to worry himself with during his time at the castle. Any time they weren’t treated to food, Claudia would love to take up the helm to try new things in the kitchen. They didn’t always have the best outcomes, but delicious meal or horrible new splatter across the walls, they always had a certain charm that only Claudia could bring. He sighs over what he works at making now. Something in his chest aches. He misses her, he truly does.

Sometimes, he thinks, people take things for granted until they are put into the position to miss them. He felt it when Harrow was lost to the elven assassins what feels like eons ago now. He felt it when Soren chose to leave his side, and that too feels so long ago. The things he’d give to listen to Harrow’s ramblings in the early mornings. To watch Soren tease his sister and the princes relentlessly with his cheesy humor and horrible jokes. To have Claudia smile warmly at him again, to hear her say “I love you Dad” one more time. An image flashes through his mind, and he sees her but she’s not smiling. It’s a memory that feels so distant yet so clear. Her hair hangs in messy waves over her shoulders, half gone stark white, and her eyes… She looks exhausted. She was like that for such a long time. Weary, tired to the bone. She looked well beyond her years, clinging to a staff she shouldn’t need to stay standing. She no longer smiled. 

Viren frowns, and banishes the thoughts from his mind. Dwelling did no good, he should know that. He pours a cut the soup he’d just made into a bowl and sets it upon a tray alongside bread he’d managed to dig out from a cabinet and a glass of water. 

He stares down at the tray. After a long beat and another sigh, he picks it up.

The walk isn’t long from the kitchen down the hall. He passes several sets of tall, midnight blue doors on his way, but pays them no mind. He’s been there long enough now that he knows what lies beyond each. He stops at a set of doors at the end of the hall and steels himself before he enters. It opens to lush bedchambers. Plush carpeting covers the floor, large double doors open out to a balcony, and in the center of the room lies a bed, see through, sparkling drapes hanging around its edges. They’ve been mostly tied up, kept out of the way for the owner, who lays still upon the sheets.

If Viren didn’t know better he’d say the elf was dead but…

Well, he might as well be with the state he’s been in.

He walks around to place the tray on a nightstand, glancing over to where Aaravos laid. The elf stares blankly at the wall, not bothering to look up at Viren when he approaches. 

“I brought you food," Viren says.

Golden irises that look so dull compared to the times Viren had seen them in the past finally moved to look at him. It was a slow glance, as if the effort it took to move his eyes was a great strain on him. He stares at Viren silently before his eyes fall back down to stare at the tray Viren had brought him. Viren can see how dull his eyes are, how dim the stars that used to shine so brightly upon his skin have become. It is extremely worrisome. It has been ever since he started this downward spiral. What ever happened to the elf who’d been full of vigor and life?

Again, Viren finds himself longing for things he’d previously taken for granted. What he wouldn’t give to see Aaravos smirk at him. Tease him for another stupid something he’d accidentally said. Hear his assured words full of confidence and power. Or to see his markings glow like they used to. 

None of it happens of course. Instead, Aaravos simply rolls over, turning his back on the food Viren had brought in for him. It’s answer enough.

Viren frowns. “I’ll leave you be.” He leaves without any other words. Aaravos says nothing, but it’s what he expects.

Viren stops to take a deep inhale as he shuts the doors behind him. He runs a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels tired too. Exhausted, actually. But Aaravos had been good for about nothing the past weeks and _somebody_ needed to keep pressing on when the other couldn’t. So press on he did, back down the hall to sit down and make himself eat a serving of the same meal he’d prepared.

It was odd to enter into this dimension he’d only ever seen through a plane of glass. Odd to finally get to see it from the inside. To be able to touch the items, the shelves and doors and books. Good lord there were so many books. They made for good pass times and good study when he wasn’t busying himself with other things.

The amount of things he  _ could _ do here were limited, but he tried his best to fill his time lest he go mad from the boredom and stress nothingness brings with it.

He remembered once upon a time, having wanted to be able to enter into this strange, curious world he’d only ever been able to barely peek into. Now that he was here it was, well, not underwhelming. There was much to see he hadn’t expected to find within the space. The context put a damper on what should be an exciting new discovery ,  though. 

He still remembers the day they got thrown into the mirror. It’s vivid in his mind, something he can’t forget. 

Viren had never seen so much raw fear on Aaravos’ face before. The elf had struggled, violently so, when he saw the mirror they were being dragged towards.  _ No’s  _ and  _ Not Again’ _ s spilled from his lips, his words angry, desperate, and horrified. Viren was too afraid to fight back the same way Aaravos was, too stunned by their loss and the elf’s display of outright terror to act out. He knew hardly anything about the mirror’s history or how it functioned, but he knew enough to know it wasn’t something he wanted to get stuck within. Someone as powerful as Aaravos being  _ afraid _ of it was evidence enough of how horrendous it truly was.

And yet, there they were soon after, sprawled on the familiar marbled flooring, standing before an all too familiar mirror that quickly closed over, until all that was left was their horrified reflections staring back at them.

Viren had been hopeful at first. Too stubborn ,  or too disbelieving, to accept they were truly stuck  t here. “Surely, someone will come for us!” He had said, when nothing he tried, magic or physical, made any dents in the mirror. “We won’t be left here forever!”

Aaravos shook violently where he still remained seated on the floor, face buried in his hands. He  _ sobbed _ and it struck a cold, deep fear into Viren’s heart. “No one will come for us,” His voice came out strangled, choked by grief. “No one will come. No one ever comes.”

“Someone will!” He tried to insist. “Someone- My children. Claudia! Surely she will-”

“You do not GET IT, VIREN!" Aaravos had screamed the words, startling Viren into silence. He’d never heard the elf yell before, let alone with so much anguish in his tone. He turned to face him, standing as he was overcome with his emotion. “WE ARE BEING LEFT HERE TO DIE! WE ARE MEANT TO ROT AWAY HERE AND BE FORGOTTEN!” Viren had backed away as the elf screamed at him, Aaravos shaking as his eyes and stars glowed ever brighter with his feelings on a crescendo. Viren could see the tears that spilled down his cheeks, all poise and elegance forgotten. “NOBODY WILL COME FOR US!” Something seemed to hit him, and just as quickly as it came, the elf’s anger fell away, replaced by a broken expression. “Nobody will…” He shook again, and collapsed back onto the floor.

Viren held onto his hope for the first week. He knew how to activate the spell that let him see out of the mirror, so he kept coming back to watch and wait. Wait for something to happen. Anything.

The mirror had been moved to an area he didn’t recognize, no longer kept near where the dragons slept. The walls were stone, the room bland aside from a single door across from the mirror. In all his time spent watching throughout the first week, there was never any sign of activity. Nobody came to check on the mirror. The door didn’t budge. He slowly came to the conclusion that the prison they were trapped in had two layers of security: The mirror itself, and the new door that cut the mirror off from the outside world. 

His hope waned, and he tried to hold onto it. The next week was spent searching through the books lining the walls and trying more spells to break through the mirror. It was pointless to keep trying, and a part of him had known this from the start, but he kept going anyway. He didn't get this far in life for lack of being stubborn.

The third week…

Well you could probably guess.

He sits now over the food he’d made, picking mindlessly at it. He's grown groggy with exhaustion and the inevitable depression that’s been sneaking up on him. He refuses to give in to it. Not yet. Not when Aaravos is already in a pitiful state. What would become of them both if he too caved to the sorrows that hang in the air around them?

Despite giving up on his attempts to break through the mirror for now, he still clings onto a small hope that Claudia will come for him. Surely, if nobody else does, she will… right?

He remembers again, the time after she revived him. Her eyes never meeting his. How tired she was. How she never smiled anymore. And then, those months after before she… 

He bites his tongue and pulls himself away from the thoughts. He can’t think about that. He has to trust she’ll come back. If she doesn’t, he’s unsure what he will do.

  
  


  
  


The days pass slowly here. He spends his time exploring what all the rooms have to offer. The main room has plenty of books to read through, though there's many in ancient languages he can't decipher. There's the bedroom Aaravos hasn't moved from in days, and the kitchen Viren had slowly been becoming more familiar with. The other rooms he needs to commit more time to exploring. One set of doors opens into a luscious, indoor garden. If it weren't for the visible ceiling and walls, Viren would have thought he'd stepped outside. The floor was covered in grass, and all sorts of plantlife and small critters fill the room wall to wall. 

Another room appears to be a study of sorts, complete with journals and a desk. Viren opened a few out of curiosity and found several blank, yet to be used. Others were filled with scrawling notes. Some were written with patience and elegance, but others were scribbled messily onto pages surrounding diagrams and drawings Viren couldn't begin to explain the meaning of. He had to assume it was Aaravos' writing. There's one he finds, tucked in the desk drawer, that is filled with drawings of a woman. She's human, and Viren certainly doesn't recognize her, but she fills page after page. She varies in ages across the pages as well, ranging from a child to a young adult depending which page he opened to. He doesn't know what to make of it, but he gets the distinct feeling that it's something he shouldn't be looking through and carefully tucks the journal away again.

There's a bathroom, as elegant and beautifully crafted as the rest of the rooms. The bath itself is larger and more ornate than many he'd seen. It's dipped into the flooring and always filled with warm water. He can sense it's magically imbued in some way. He assumes it's self cleaning and keeping itself at a comfortable temperature. There's various bath salts and soaps lining the edge of the wall near the bath, but they appear untouched. He wonders if Aaravos _needs_ to bathe.

There's one more room, but it's empty. He doesn't know what to make of it, assumes it's for the sake of letting whoever is trapped there have some freedom with at least one of the rooms. He leaves it be after that.

Other curiosities include the fireplace in the main room, tucked between the thousands of books lining the shelves. It never goes out unless someone puts it out, so it's easy to deduce it too is magically imbued. He's curious about the windows in the same room. There's nothing to be seen from them but a white light that shines through them during what he assumes is the day, and then darkens during the night. The windows don't break, don't even scratch, he'd already tried. He sits and stares out of them time to time, hoping to see something new in the white void, but he's always met with nothingness.

Then there's the balcony in Aaravos' room. The only place he'd count as being "outside", but even that's questionable. It's possible to walk out onto the balcony, but the sight isn't much. The white void sits in a haze around it as well, the only thing of interest being the ground beneath the balcony. It appears to be stone, and a thin layer of water covers it. It's not far beneath the balcony, and Viren wonders what would happen if someone were to step onto it. Could someone walk into the whiteness? What happened then? He's yet to test any theories, not wanting to intrude in Aaravos' space for longer than necessary.

Part of him wants to try and help. Offer the elf some form of comfort, even if he wouldn't accept it. The other part of him is stubborn and angry. How dare Aaravos mope about, like this wasn't his fault in the first place? The conflicting feelings keep him from trying anything, so instead he brings Aaravos necessities such as food and otherwise keeps his distance.

Honestly, he's not sure if Aaravos need to eat. But in his own conflicting emotions, doing the bare minimum for the elf helps him feel better about himself in some ways.

He'd taken to sleeping on what he assumes to be a couch pressed against the wall beside the windows. It's larger and more elegant than other couches he'd seen before, which is the trend everything seems to follow in this place, so at least its not horrendously uncomfortable. 

One morning, he woke and realized with a startled jump that Aaravos was in the room. He looked pitiful, sat by the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a book resting in his lap. He looks as dead inside as he has every other time Viren's seen him, and he rests with his head leant against the wall next to the fireplace, as if he wasn't strong enough to support the weight of it on his own.

Viren is unsure what to say when he sees him, so he instead remains silent and stares. He probably looks like an idiot, but Aaravos isn't looking at him.

"How did watching the mirror go?" Aaravos asks quietly. His voice sounds weak and raw, as if he'd just been crying.

Viren frowns and tries not to get frustrated all over again. "I think you can make an educated guess," He spits out, more tense than he intended to sound.

"Ohhh yes of course. I'm sure you'd be long gone if your precious daughter had shown up." Aaravos sounds extremely bitter. One of his hands tightens around the book as he speaks.

"What are you implying?" Viren stands from the couch, brows drawn together. He shouldn't be getting angry, but he's had three weeks of frustrations and depression building up, and the emotions had to come out eventually.

"Don't act like you would want anything to do with me after this!" Some of Aaravos' exhaustion is forgotten as he raises his voice back at him. He's still not looking at him. "Just a lowly elf who failed and got you trapped in a prison!"

Some part of Viren recognizes the self deprecation. The rest of him is too caught up in his emotions to dwell on it. "It's not like you've been exactly  _ helpful _ the past several weeks!"

"What do you expect me to do?!" Aaravos spins, getting to his feet and letting the blanket fall from his shoulders. He looks so angry. So sad. "Do you I think I stayed here for centuries last time just for _fun_?! Because this place is _sooo_ pleasant to be trapped inside?!"

"Well it's not just  _ you _ trapped in here anymore!" Viren yells, and it gives Aaravos pause, eyes going wide.

The elf sways where he stands, all of his anger fueled energy visibly draining out of him. "I'm sorry," He sighs out shakily, a hand coming to his face. "I'm sorry, I-" He sinks slowly back to the floor, leaning against the wall once more. "I'm scared , Viren." The words come out delicately, a raw admission of his true feelings that snaps Viren out of the emotion induced rage he'd been in.

It hits harder than it should. Viren knows Aaravos is afraid, but hearing it aloud makes him realize how scared he is too. He knows he should say something. Apologize. He doesn't. Silently he walks over to the fireplace and sits across it from Aaravos. The elf still has his face in his hand, and Viren can see the way his shoulders shake.

Viren can't bring himself to give any words of comfort, but he can sit there with him until the elf stops shaking. So sit there he does.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY this is one of my WIP babies thats actually really old haha. If you read Viravos fics often you may have seen it before on my old account, because I just decided to take it down there and upload it here instead where I can finish it on my new account. If you DO recall it from my old account, I ask you kindly to not talk about said old account, I dont want anything to do with it anymore for reasons that are private.
> 
> But if you don't recall it, HEY WELCOME :D I hope you enjoy the fic! This ideas my baby and I have a TON of fun with it. Only the first two chapters are pre-written from old stuff, chapter 3 and on will be recent!
> 
> I have a horrible tendency to start ideas then either not finish them or take A LONGGGG TIME to finish, so please bear with me if this doesn't update consistently or takes a while.
> 
> big thanks to my partner, Nikoleki, for beta reading this bad boy for me, I wouldn't be able to do this as well as I do without their help.
> 
> OKAY ENTIRE RAMBLE ASIDE. THANKS FOR READING AND I HOPE YOU'LL STICK AROUND FOR MORE I PROMISE FUTURE ENDING NOTES WON'T BE THIS LONG HAHA. If you liked it please leave a comment, even short ones fuel my desire to write more :D


	2. Deeds Cannot Be Undone

Aaravos falls asleep by the fireplace eventually. Viren watches him as he rests, eyes trailing over his star-speckled face. He looks remarkably relaxed while asleep, all the emotion and tension drained from him. The stars across his cheeks flicker absently, his hair falling in waves around his face and down his shoulders. He's as beautiful as he's always been. Viren would be a fool to pretend he didn't recognize it. It still baffles him that a being as powerful and beautiful as Aaravos took interest in someone like him.

He wonders what would have happened had he never discovered Aaravos. Never thought to take the mirror in the dragon's keep with him. The elf would have never had the chance to escape, and Viren's acts of treason surely would have gotten him killed by now. He had Aaravos to thank for getting as far as he did.

Did it matter though? He glances up at the ceiling, the same marbled blue as the flooring. They still ended up getting thrown into this place in the end.

His gaze falls back to Aaravos, and he can't help but let his eyes roam over the elf's features. He didn't think Aaravos meant for it to end like this. It was obvious he didn't in the way he fell apart after their capture. It was strange to realize that Aaravos was fallible. That he could be outsmarted, overpowered, that he could be contained in the first place was all very shocking in retrospect. The drastic measures taken with this prison made sense considering what an unbelievable amount of power he held. Viren had no idea what hellish amount of spells they must have put on that damn mirror, but it was far too much for him to wrap his head around. It seemed it was the same for Aaravos, considering he was never able to escape until he had Viren to assist him from the outside.

Viren’s thoughts quiet a moment as Aaravos stirs, a few strands of hair falling over his shoulder before settling again. Viren stares in silence a few seconds longer before he realizes this finally answers his question of whether Aaravos slept. It’s funny, almost, realizing that Aaravos was like any regular person. Still needed to sleep. Still had moments of weakness. Still made mistakes. There was something reassuring about the realization that Viren wasn’t trapped here with some unfathomable being that would always be so much grander than he was. In a way, it felt like it shortened the distance between them. Aaravos was more powerful in magic, but in everything else? Viren could accept they weren’t that different.

He considers waking Aaravos so he can sleep somewhere more comfortable, but decides against it. If Viren wakes him now he's unsure he'd be able to go back to sleep, so he leaves him to rest.

Viren heads towards the bedroom. He decides it's a good idea to see if it contains anything of interest while Aaravos is away. It's strange to see the room empty, as he'd grown so accustomed to the elf laying unmoving in the bed, which is now in a state of disarray, blankets left haphazard from whenever Aaravos had gotten up. Viren ignores the bed, and instead goes to the doors that lead to the balcony. He pushes them open easily and walks out. There’s a railing along the edge of it, but it’d be easy to jump over.

He comes to a stop at the railing, hands resting against the stone. It's cold where his palms rest, and he can see his breath forming in small clouds in the air in front of him. It reminds him of cold, early mornings back home, and the memory brings with it a wave of nostalgia. He thinks back to mornings spent talking with Harrow on the balcony overlooking Katolis. He recalls feeling pride at the time, looking out over the kingdom. Harrow’s kingdom. His kingdom. He dares say  _ their _ kingdom but- He shakes the thought from his head. It’s neither of theirs anymore. They are both lost to it. A king who could never return and a mage who fell by his own hand. He led himself too far off his original path, or perhaps he should say he was led astray. He thinks back to Aaravos, the murmured promises, reassuring smiles. He doesn’t know if he should blame Aaravos or himself more for what’s become of them.

He looks at the ground below the balcony, turning his thoughts away from regrets of a time long since passed. He focuses instead on possible escape.  _ Or death, _ his mind taunts him. He forces the thought away. It’s the only thing he can think to try after his failure to understand the mirror itself.

He carefully drops from the edge of the balcony to the ground below. It's not far enough to be dangerous, and the layer of water that covers the ground ripples when he lands. His knee aches in protest, and he bitterly thinks about his he's too old to be jumping off railings. The water at his feet is not deep enough to fully submerge his shoes, lapping at the edges of his boots where he's landed. His gaze lifts to the balcony, raising a hand to see if he could reach it. His fingers reassuringly brush along its edge. It wouldn't be impossible to pull himself back up if this exploration didn't go anywhere. He had to be thankful for that, because he wasn't sure if Aaravos would come looking for him if he got stuck. With how out of it the elf has been, he’s unsure if Aaravos would realize he was missing.

The exterior wall of wherever they're trapped within is light blue, the same as the walls and flooring within. It's rather mundane from outside, no detailing to make it look like anything special, completely different than the intricacies inside.

Viren’s unsure where to start, looking out at the white haze that takes over about twenty feet from where he stands. He frowns, glancing back at the wall before striding to it. He places a hand upon it and looks to his right, where the wall disappears into the white haze. It's as good a start as any, so he begins to walk, keeping one hand on the marble as he goes. The whiteness takes over like an unnatural fog, thickening until he can't see his hand any longer. He can tell it's magical in some way, feel the arcane buzz in the air as he treks forward, but he can't make anything of it. He doesn't know enough about primal magic to determine if it's based in one of its facets, but it certainly feels nothing like dark magic.

Far sooner than he expects he sees the haze begin to thin, and can make out his fingers dragging along marbled blue beside him. He feels a spike of excitement in his chest. The prospect of finally discovering something promising makes his hopes soar and then-

He sees the balcony.

He stills, seeing it upon the wall before him. The same curved balcony with the same railing, except he was now to the left of it. There was no way he had been walking long enough to circle around the building, he knew the layout within and could guess how large it would make the exterior. There was  _ no way _ .

He looks behind him, as if the thick haze he'd emerged from would give him answers. He looks back at the balcony.

He turns around and walks back the way he came. It ends in the same result, but this time he finds himself to the right of the balcony, as if he had somehow circled back around the building in such a short amount of time.

What had been excitement turns to annoyance. He breaks off from the wall and walks away from the balcony instead. He's engulfed in the haze, accompanied only by the angry splashes of his footsteps, until he finds himself back in front of the balcony again.

He spins to glare the fog. After a few seconds spent fuming, he throws up his arms. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh I've tried that before."

The voice startles him, and he spins to see Aaravos standing on the balcony. He looks unamused, a tiredness resting on his face. He looks ethereal, standing in the white light, framed by the bedroom doors left open behind him. He leans over the railing of the balcony, staring down at him. Viren wishes he was the angel he looked like, here to take him far, far away from the mess they were in.

"It's fun how it teases you, isn't it?" Aaravos says, leaning further so he can rest his arms upon the railing. He sounds bitter as he goes on, lifting his gaze to stare aimlessly into the white void. "A breath of fresh air, the thrill of being outdoors again, the possibility of escape, just for you to find out you can't." He chuckles, but it lacks any humor. It’s dark and angry. As his head falls, his hair tumbles around his face like a curtain. "So much of this place exists just to taunt you. Everything is beautiful. Well crafted furniture and fun trinkets to lull you into a false sense of security." He shakes his head. Viren can't see his expression, but he can hear the fury in his tone. "Oh this isn't too bad, you think at first, only to realize in time how horrendous it truly is."

Viren approaches the balcony as he speaks. The elf beginning to show anger rather than his constant exhaustion and sadness feels dangerous when Viren is the only other person here for Aaravos to take it out on. He knows too well how it feels to be the punching bag for someone else's feelings, so he proceeds with caution. "Horrendous for taunting you with a better life?"

"For giving you so much, yet no one to share it with." The words shock Viren. He didn't take the elf to be the sociable type. Actually, he had never thought of Aaravos having much of a personal life at all. It's an odd thought, to realize he had a life of his own all those years ago before getting trapped in the mirror. 

"I didn't take you for the sharing type." He comments.

He can see Aaravos' face now, lifted just slightly to look down at him. "There are things you miss once you can no longer have them." 

"I understand that feeling," Viren replies slow, thinking back to his own lamenting over that same thing.

"Yes, I'm sure you do," Aaravos murmurs. He sighs something heavy that sounds like he's pushing all of his emotions from his chest. "You must understand, isolation is the worst kind of hell." He pauses, before his eyes find Viren's again. "But as you said already, it's not just me anymore. You're here." He stares at Viren, as if waiting for him to respond. When Viren comes up with nothing, the elf continues. "Would you like to come back up now or are you not done running yourself in circles?"

Viren shoots him a glare. "I'm done. This is pointless."

Aaravos almost smiles. He can see the twitch of his lips. He leans further, offering a hand to Viren. "Come on then."

It takes a bit more strength on both their parts than Viren expects, but they manage to get him back over the railing faster than he would have alone. He’s thankful, but refuses to express it on the outside. 

"Did you want something?" He asks between catching his breath, leaning back against the railing as he shoots the elf a look.

Closer now, he can see the emotion that weighs on Aaravos' face, the tired lines under his eyes. Aaravos averts his gaze before Viren does, arms hugging around himself. He looks extremely vulnerable, it’s almost easy to forget the things he's capable of.

"I decided it's time I stop treating this like the same situation I was in before," He says quietly. "I should take advantage of having company this time around."

Viren raises a brow. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Talk to me?" The words make him sound as vulnerable as be looks. Aaravos looks at him again, and his golden eyes shine with a desperation Viren had never seen from him before. "Please." 

_ Please _ . The word shakes him. "About?"

"Anything. Please, I-" He struggles with his words for a moment, and it's a sight to behold. The great and powerful Aaravos, struggling to speak. "I just need to hear someone else. To remember I'm not alone here."

Viren stares at him. He would say he doesn't know how to respond but it's more like he's been stunned into silence. It's been a long time since his company was desired by someone else. He supposes he should be thankful in some way. Grateful that the only person he can interact with actually seems to want him around. It’s better than his previous fear of becoming another punching bag for someone else’s feelings.

"Should we sit first?"

"If you'd like."

They find themselves seated beside each other on Aaravos' bed. Aaravos clutches a pillow to his chest, as if he was trying to ground himself by giving himself something to hold. Viren thinks briefly, he could offer something more to hold onto. A hand or an arm, warmer and more firm than a pillow. He's immediately met with the feeling that that sort of thinking is weak, and Viren pushes the thoughts away. He’s stronger than that. 

Aaravos asks him questions when he can't come up with a starting point. He asks about how he became a dark mage, and Viren tells him the story of how his parents died, and the desire to pursue magic that followed. He'd already been curious, but their deaths spurred him fully into his studies. He wanted a way to protect not only himself but his future family. 

"Your family," Aaravos murmurs quietly, thinking. "How did you end up working for the king with your children?"

"I was the only mage in our kingdom," He answers simply. "Harrow and I met when we were younger. He recognized my potential I suppose."

"You sound sorrowful."

Viren can't help the short, bitter laugh that leaves him. "Do I?" He knows he does. As much as he pretends everything that happened with Harrow doesn't weigh on him, he can feel it, lingering at the back of his mind, a heavy burden that he must live with. "I apologize. We didn't end on good terms with each other."

"Ah." Aaravos goes quiet for only a moment before his curiosity wins over, "May I ask what happened?"

Viren doesn't intend to tell him everything, but perhaps some part of him realizes there's no point in keeping secrets anymore. If Aaravos is right and nobody will ever come for them, nothing he says matters anymore. Whatever confessions leave his mouth are only between him, Aaravos, and these damned blue walls.

He tells the elf about his bond with Harrow. Harrow and Sarai's wedding. He tells him of Sarai and the other queen’s deaths, his attempt to save them only to have to hold Sarai as she took her last breaths. He goes on about life after, how Harrow changed and the mission to kill Avizandum. And then he tells him everything about Harrow's final days, his confession of how much love he felt for Harrow, only to have it spat back in his face. He tells it all, and he knows his voice wavers and grows tense, but Aaravos doesn't say a word. He listens until Viren is done.

And then he smiles. It's not his usual smile, there is no amusement or smugness. It's a sad smile. One of sympathy. "Love causes such pain does it not?" Aaravos murmurs, and his voice sounds so tender and pained that Viren knows immediately that he understands. Aaravos deeply, truly understands the hurt Viren had felt, and Viren is in disbelief.

Of everyone to understand, it was Aaravos.

"You sound like you have experience," Viren replies, voice quiet. 

Aaravos looks down at the floor. "Oh, I do." He sighs. "I do," He says again, but it's quieter. Viren waits for him to say something more. The silence stretches on, and when Viren thinks he'll say nothing else, the elf speaks again. "You must have wondered how I ended up in here the first time."

"Yes, I have," Viren admits. 

Aaravos purses his lips, thinking. "I turned against my people." He says it like it's simple. "You know, long ago, there was a council of elves who worked alongside the dragon king."

Viren's brows raise. He's done a lot of research in his time and never heard of such a thing. "What happened to them?"

Aaravos' mouth twitches into a smile. "I killed them."

Viren isn't as surprised as he should be.

"It did a whole lot of good for the world I'd say!" Aaravos continues with a grin, the confidence he used to have slowly seeping back into his tone. "A bunch of stuck up pricks, they deserved it." He chuckles, before his sorrow catches up with him and the confidence fades. "I was trying to fight for what I thought was right. They didn't quite agree."

"So you got thrown in here?"

"Yes." Aaravos sighs, pressing his face to the pillow between his hands. "It's unfair, but they were afraid of me. The only thing they could do was put me somewhere my magic couldn't reach them and forget about my existence. They wiped me from history so they could forget.”

Viren frowns, thinking back to when he had first tried to research the elf. The text vanishing before his eyes before he could read it. “Is that why every text of you disappears?”

“Yes. What they couldn’t physically destroy they made sure no one could know of.” He lifts his face, glaring at the wall with a barely restrained anger. “It sealed my fate. Everyone who knew of me would pass away and all records of me would be impossible to discover. Wonderful planning on their part, really.” His face relaxes, the emotion washing away from it as he turns to look at Viren again. Golden eyes meet silver, and his head tilts slightly, expression unreadable. “And then you found me.”

Viren stares back before realizing he’s supposed to respond. “Completely by accident.”

Aaravos smiles at him. “Yes. Our entire relationship is built on coincidence isn't it?"

Viren’s brows raise. He realizes Aaravos is right. There were many moments a single decision made differently could have prevented them from ever meeting. Never to know of each other's existence, never to interact. It’s baffling to imagine.

He decides, after some thought, that perhaps he should thank coincidence for leading him to where he is.    
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw rapid fire chapter 2 posting because its pre written already and I am impatient hehe.
> 
> Chapter 3 I actually finished not too long ago and will get posted after its edited and ready :3 Just gotta wait for my beta reader! (Who is Nikoleki, they are amazing, I owe them so much for helping me out)
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave a comment! Even a short one makes my day and helps fuel me to keep writing, truly any comment is welcome and great! :D


	3. A Prison of Isolation

Viren noticed Aaravos' behavior change after their first real talk since getting thrown in the mirror. He didn't lock himself away in his room nearly as often and Viren quickly got adjusted to the elf being outside the bedroom. Aaravos didn't do much, but it was progress. It was hard to say, but Viren was fairly sure the elf enjoyed doing nothing more than sitting and watching what he was doing. He'd comment from time to time, explain what something was, but mostly he remained quiet. Silent but attentive. It’s often that Viren catches those golden eyes staring at him.

  
  


Days pass. They’re in the fourth week now. Aaravos has been participating in what Viren was doing more often to help pass the time. The gap that exists between them whenever they are in the same room closes slowly with each passing day. He comments on the books Viren has pulled from the shelves that get left out on the tables and countertops. He slides a hand over their covers as he speaks about their contents, slow and contemplative. Viren listens when he explains to him what each book is about, where it came from, when he'd received it. 

"I'd receive new books now and again for sixty or so years, if I were to guess. I could be wrong, the passage of time is difficult for me to perceive." He picks up the book he was observing as he spoke. He doesn't open it. "My theory was someone was assigned to keep me entertained so I didn't lose my mind completely. Yet, the sorrowful truth is I outlive everyone. It was only a matter of time before even they passed and I was left truly alone for the next few centuries."

"That sounds … horrible," Viren replies slowly.

"The books used to be reassuring." He sets the book down, leaning over the table as his eyes grew distant. "They were the only thing that told me someone remembered I existed. At least one person out there still cared in some sick sense, even if it was just their job to do it." He lets out a shaky breath. "The day I realized no more books were coming, it was a horrid feeling. I'd finally been completely forgotten. Left behind only as the memories of dead men."

Viren doesn't know what he's supposed to say. He often doesn't know what to say when it comes to Aaravos. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard."

"Yes, well," He sighs and brushes his hair away from his face so he can look at Viren again, "It's different now."

The next day finds them in the garden room. Viren doesn’t expect to find Aaravos there. Viren himself rarely visits the room, but he’d seen the door left ajar and his curiosity always wins over his caution in these cases. When he enters, the room is warm. It feels nostalgic in a way, stepping into the warmth and lush greenery. A reminder of times long ago when he was a child getting dragged along by a young Prince Harrow to play games in the woods. The room, though reminiscent of those old times, is nothing like the woods they used to play in. There are no trees, not enough ceiling space for any. Instead there are walls of flowers and bushes, a carpet of grass covers the floor, and a light akin to the sun shines from several panes of the ceiling. And at the center of it all is the elf.

Aaravos either doesn’t notice him come in or doesn’t care. He’s seated in the middle of the greenery, staring at the flowers before him with his back turned to Viren. One of his hands cups a rose before him . The edges of it’s red petals are browning, and the stem is weak where it wilts.

“Life is so futile,” Aaravos murmurs when Viren steps closer, face remaining turned toward the rose. “Everything is so delicate. So easily breakable.”

Viren frowns. He stands beside Aaravos, close enough he could reach out and touch him if he wanted to, but there’s an unspeakable chasm between them in this moment that stills his hand. Aaravos’ complicated relationship to life and death is something Viren knows he cannot possibly fathom. What is life to a being that does not die? 

Aaravos continues. “And yet it still fights,” He pulls his hand away from it, allowing it to droop where it’s stem can no longer hold it up. “What good are a rose’s thorns if it wilts away regardless?”

Viren has a feeling the elf doesn’t expect a response, but Aaravos gives him a moment of silence to do so if he pleases. Viren remains quiet. He has no words. All he can do is listen. Perhaps if he listens enough, he can finally start to understand.

Aaravos sighs. He reaches out and snaps the flower from its stem. It’s a simple action , but it sends a chill up Viren’s spine. The elf cups the flower in one hand. His fist closes around it, crushing the petals into his palm.

  
  
  
  
  


Two days pass quietly. Reality finally begins to settle in. 

Took it long enough.

Sleep evades Viren that night. He stares at the ceiling, succumbing to his wakefulness after much tossing and turning. It takes him back to a night a very long time ago. He was woken in the middle of the night by a young, tearful Soren. Claudia was next to him, so small and yet so resilient, clasping her whimpering brother's hand as she explained he'd had a nightmare. It had become a long night, and he somehow ended up laying in Sorens bed, both his children asleep across his chest. He'd resigned himself to it, and ended up falling asleep.

It felt odd to reflect on something so mundane. Something from so long ago. What was the point in reflecting?

And that was when the reality hit him. Finally and truly, he realized how bad this situation was. He sat up on the couch that he had been sleeping on for the past several weeks and stared wide eyed at the far wall.

He wasn't getting out. He wouldn't see his children again.

No more terrible humor from Soren. No more weird noises from Claudia. No more staying up late helping her study. No more watching them play prank after prank on each other.

He hadn't been giving it much thought before, what happened to get him and Aaravos trapped here. He hadn't wanted to, shoved it away in his mind.

  
  
  


_ He sees Claudia. Half of her hair has gone white. She's nearly in tears sitting over him, sucking in gasps for air. _

_ "You're alive!" Her voice cracks as she says it, pushing her messy hair out of her face. _

_ Time passes. She slowly helps him regain his strength. _

_ Aaravos eventually emerges from the cocoon. Viren doesn't miss how tense Claudia is around the elf, but seeing him brings a mix of relief and doubt. _

_ He reacts with unease. He challenges Aaravos, ask why he let him die. Aaravos is either a great liar, or he means it when he tells Viren that what happened was a horrific accident. That he'd never let Viren come to harm unless it was necessary. Viren sees the way Claudia frowns. _

_ Their plan continues forward. Aaravos is clever as always. Claudia talks with him as the three of them begin their trek across Xadia. They both smile too much, Viren thinks, for the situation they're in. But Claudia's smiles are thin, and Aaravos' are neutral at best. _

_ They know the others are on their trail. Aaravos murmurs something about wanting revenge on the elf girl. He smiles at Viren while he promises to stop the princes for him. Claudia is still frowning. _

_ And then she goes missing. _

_ Viren is frantic at first, then accusatory. Aaravos must have done something to her, there was no other explanation. Aaravos is calm when he points out the boot prints that lead away from their camp. _

_ "She ran away," He'd said, nonchalant. _

_ It was the first time Viren can recall screaming at him. Because Claudia wouldn’t run away. Claudia wouldn’t abandon him. Surely she was looking for supplies and got lost. He insisted they look for her and Aaravos didn’t resist. The elf simply sighed, “If it will help you come to your senses”, and followed Viren as he set to tracing her steps as best he could. _

_ The tracks became lighter as the greenery and soil became thicker. It was impossible to follow any longer. Viren tried yelling for her. He tried coming up with spells that would help. It was nearing sundown when he finally resigned himself to the idea that he wasn’t going to find her. He yelled at Aaravos all over again. He can’t recall every word he said, but he blamed the elf for not making sure she was safe and accounted for. Aaravos let him yell, he seemed amused at how worked up Viren was getting himself, and he stayed quiet through Viren’s anger. When Viren grew tired and stopped yelling, Aaravos provided words of reassurance. Promises that if he picked up on any signs of her he would let Viren know. He also gave him a hard, blunt truth. _

_ “If she has run away by her choice, it is very unlikely we will find her. Remember this.” _

_ It plagued Viren for days as they resumed their journey across Xadia _

_When they found her, it was through unfortunate circumstances. She was with the princes, the elves, the dragons!_ _Viren tried so hard to feel angry with her. How could she turn against him? Against her own father? But in the moments between the fighting, he saw her face, and he felt a pang in his chest._

_ She looked tired and sad. The energetic, happy daughter he’d once known was gone, and for once in his life, he realized perhaps it was his fault this had happened. _

_He didn’t see her after the dragons took_ _him and an unconscious Aaravos back to where the spell needed to throw the pair back into the mirror would be orchestrated._

_ He didn’t see how they managed to knock the elf down after the grand amount of power he showed in the face of them. The amount of people he must have torn through before he was felled couldn’t have been small.  _

_ And then… _ And then, they were thrown into this prison.

Even now, the part of him that wants to be angry and the part that feels a horrific sorrow for what became of his daughter are at war with each other. He can’t tell what pushed her to go so far. Had she felt that opposed to their plans? Did she feel lost after what had happened to Viren? The hardships she faced to bring him back? Or perhaps she distrusted Aaravos so much she could not let them continue on such a path.

Whatever the reason was does not matter. She’s as good as gone. The hope Viren had that she would come for him fades in his chest as he recalls the face she wore during that final battle. Tired, sorrowful, defeated. Despite her side winning by throwing him and Aaravos into this prison, he feels as if there was no victory for Claudia that day.

Viren is not a man who often sheds tears, having spent years trying to convince himself any semblance of such emotions was a sign of weakness, but that night he finds himself crying quietly into his hands. Claudia is not going to come for him, and if she isn’t going to, then no one will.

  
  
  
  
  


“Here.”

Viren stares dumbly at the rag held out to him. It was the next morning, and he had been eating the breakfast he’d prepared for himself, only to have Aaravos stroll in and shove a piece of cloth in his face. He could tell by looking at it it was wetted by something, but the smell told him it was something sweeter, more herb-like than water.

“What… is this?” He asks slowly, eyes flicking up to the elf’s impassive face and back to the rag in question uneasily.

“It helps.” Aaravos doesn’t move, keeping his hand outstretched. “With your eyes,” He adds. 

Viren continues to stare blankly.

“It helps after one has been crying,” 

“Oh.” Viren tries to ignore the flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He had been certain the elf must have been asleep and hadn't seen him sobbing so weakly the previous night, but the elf was as mysterious in his knowledge of things as he always was. Carefully, he accepts it. “Thank you.”

“Leave it pressed on your eyes for a minute or so, they will feel better.” And with that , he leaves the room just as he had entered.

Viren had no idea what to make of the gesture. He also had no clue what to make of the fact the elf was aware he’d cried the night previous. It couldn’t have been that obvious on his face, could it? Sighing, he does as he was told and presses the rag to his eyes, tilting his head back to help keep it from falling. The elf was unpredictable and impossible to read. He’d stopped being so depressive, but it felt harder to tell what his mood would be day to day. Not too long ago he had been so distant, it felt like Viren was going to have to do much more to get closer to him. Then suddenly he was providing a remedy for his sore eyes after crying.

Aaravos lived up to the mystery surrounding him. It felt like Viren was never any closer to understanding him.

He sighs, pulling the rag from his eyes to squint at the blue walls surrounding him. At least Viren had all the time in the world to work on it.

After a few moments , he realized, the remedy worked. His eyes felt much better.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo Chapter 3~! Idk how long it'll take me to get more chapters done but man does it feel good to get a new one out after so long!
> 
> Thank you to my lovelyyy partner and beta reader, Nikoleki. Ily muah. This fic would not be what it is without em!
> 
> And thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please leave a comment, even a short one makes me happy and helps fuel me to want to write more~!


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